


King Size Spaceship

by nataliving



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fuse together to become SPGA AU, Gen, Grey's Anatomy AU, M/M, Mostly fluff because my other fic is not, SPGA AU, Single Parent AU, because one trope is never enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliving/pseuds/nataliving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa has closed herself off in order to be the best parent she can be to her nephew. Clarke is looking for a fresh start in a city where no one knows her name. Both of them don't really get what they want, but--thanks to Lexa's nephew and a stray puppy--they figure out what they need.</p><p>Or when a Grey's Anatomy AU meets a Single Parent AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here's The Kick-off

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mostly unbeta'd fluffy thing that I'm writing while trying to figure out YWNA. Plus, I'm a sucker for Lexa as a single parent, so.

“Zachary, it’s time to get up,” Lexa tells her nephew gently as she runs her fingers through his thick mop of hair. It’s getting long, but he doesn't seem annoyed with it yet.

“I don’t feel good,” he mumbles in response, a blatant lie.

“Sounds like you’ve got the Monday Mopes,” she replies, pulling the comforter back, trying to jumpstart their morning routine. Zachary grabs the blanket back, flopping defiantly back against his pillow. “It’s not the Monday Mopes. I’m _serious_.”

Lexa fights to keep from laughing at her nephew’s obvious italics. “You’re _serious?_ ”

“Yes!” Zachary reiterates, slightly breaking character. “I think I have pumonian!”

“Pumonian?”

“Yes!”

“That does sound serious,” Lexa says, biting back a grin.

“That’s what I said!” Zachary reiterates.

She cups his chin. “Hmm, well, if you don’t feel well, I guess that means you won’t want to go to park like we talked about,” Lexa baits.

“No! No, no, no, I still want to go to the park!” Zachary sits up, fully shedding his charade.

“But if you’re sick—”

“It was just the Monday Mopes, Mama! I promise!”

Being called ‘mama’ still gives Lexa pause, but when Zachary started referring to her as such a year ago, she figured that if anyone could decide what Zachary called her, it should be him. Still, sometimes she worries that he is forgetting his parents.

Lexa pushes herself out of her thoughts, and smashes a kiss to his worried cheek. “Then get your butt out of bed, and get dressed!”

He smiles at her, knowing he’s had. “Can I at least have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Oh, at least. We gotta do _something_ about those Monday Mopes,” she says pulling out clothes for him to wear. “Do you want to come back here after school to get your bike or do you want head straight to the park?”

“Straight to the park!”

Forty-five minutes, a belly full of pancakes, and a debate about whether or not a cowboy hat was necessary school attire later, Lexa and Zachary were out the door. Without the cowboy hat.

*

Lincoln is waiting for them outside with a big smile when they get to school, that only falters a little bit after Lexa pulls into her parking spot.

“You’re car is making that sound again,” he says.

“Yeah, it is,” Lexa confirms, handing him Zachary’s backpack.

“ _NER NER NER NER_ ,” Zachary screeches, replicating the sound in question.

“Yeah, buddy, that’s exactly right,” Lexa says, ruffling his hair. “But we’re about to go into school, so that means…?”

“Inside voices only,” he answers solemnly.

“Correct,” Lincoln says with a smile, offering a hand, which Zachary gladly takes, allowing Lincoln to lead him to the art room with where the rest of the faculty’s kids wait to start the day.

Lincoln turns back to Lexa. “You know, I could take a look at your car this weekend, if you want.”

Lexa smirks. “Lincoln, you are an elementary school art teacher.”

“So?”

“ _So_ I know for a fact that whatever is going on with my car cannot be fixed via paper mâché or molding clay. I’ll take it over to Quint’s eventually.”

Lincoln rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just be sure to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Okay, Mr. Forrester, some of us have class to get to,” Lexa deflects. “Have a good day, Zach,” she says with a wave.

“You too, Mama!” he replies, waving back with an impossibly large smile on his face.

Lexa blows a kiss in a final farewell, and then begins to make her way across campus to the high school.

*

The moving truck was late.

And, according to the recent email exchange she had with the company, it was going to be at least a day late. Which of course, makes no sense to Clarke, considering that they left at the same time she did and it only to her two days to make the drive from New York to St. Louis.

She didn’t speed _that_ much.

Dejected, she slams her head back on the headrest of her seat a couple of times before stepping out of her car and into the driveway of her new home.

It’s a four bedroom two-story that looks almost exactly like all the other houses in the subdivision: white siding with red brick accents and dormer windows with red matching shutters. It’s situated in a cul de sac that’s only shared by one other house with aluminum fencing separating the backyards. Again, almost identical to Clarke’s in every way except for a classic wooden porch swing out front, an abandoned bike in the front yard, and green shutters instead of red. She only visited the area once before she put in a bid for the house, but the realtor assured her that Clarke’s new neighbors were good and quiet people.

“Home sweet home,” Clarke mumbles, as she pops the trunk and begins to bring boxes into what would be her home for the next five years.

Even with the moving truck snafu, Clarke still has the majority of her clothes, office stuff and bedding, so she spends the next few hours sort of psudo unpacking: _When the dresser gets here, it will go here, so I will put my boxes of clothes there for now. The bookshelves will probably line this wall, so I’ll move the boxes of books into that room until then—_ Etcetera, etcetera and so forth. It’s vaguely productive. 

She then constructs a makeshift bed out of three comforters, that half way through becomes a sort of blanket fort because _why not_? If Clarke Griffin is going to sleep on the ground, she’s going to have fun with it.

But eventually her car is unpacked and everything is in its theoretically correct place, so all that’s left is to check in with her mother like she promised she would.

The phone only rings once before Abby answers, “Clarke?” breathless and worried, like she had been waiting all day—which probably wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Clarke was supposed to call as soon as she got to the house.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I was wondering when I would hear from you. Did you just get to the house?”

“No, I just wanted to unpack a little bit before I called you.”

“I see.” Clarke can hear Abby’s displeasure through the phone, and this is _precisely_ why she was putting it off in the first place. But Abby soldiers on. “Did everything make the move okay?”

“Uh, actually, the movers got delayed somewhere in Ohio, so they’re a day behind me.”

“What?!” Abby gasps. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Yeah, I’m not too happy. But there really isn’t anything I can do about it.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“The floor. It’s just one night, so I’ll make it work.”

“I guess.”

This conversation is dragging on much too long for Clarke’s liking, but she feels bad for making Abby worry all day.

“So Octavia will be arriving tomorrow?” Abby asks.

“Yeah. I talked with her on the way down today. Her flight will get in late tomorrow morning, so hopefully the movers beat her here. I don’t want to deal with a whiney Octavia.”

They both laugh softly, but then it stretches into a heavy silence.

And then: “Clarke, I don’t want you to think that I’m mad at you for this.”

“But I know you are, so what’s really the point in bringing it up?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Clarke.”

“I’m not. You wanted me to stay in New York with you. And I get that, but, Jesus, Mom, it’s WashU. It’s the third best program in the country. For the life of me, I can’t understand that I need to do this.”

“I’m just worried that you aren’t actually confronting your grief—”

“Did you get that from Jaha? Just because he lost his son doesn’t mean he knows what I’m going through. I think we can _at least_ agree that it’s very different.”

“I just want what’s best for you—”

“Okay, well, it’s time for you to trust that I know what’s best for me.”

Clarke can hear Abby sigh on the other line, and she takes the opportunity to wrap the call up.

“I just need a fresh start, Mom. Somewhere I can be no one instead of poor Clarke Griffin. You have to understand that.”

Abby is reluctant, but eventually says, “I do. I just don’t like that your fresh start had to be so far away.”

“I know, but listen, I’ve still got some unpacking to do, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Clarke pockets her phone and leans back against the kitchen counter, trying to shake the conversation with her mother from her being. When that doesn’t work, she decides that it’s time to sample some Midwestern fresh air everyone talks about while she figures out if there’s anything worth ordering through GrubHub around.

As soon as she steps out to her back yard, Clarke can make out the melody of _Hakuna Matata_ making its way down the road. The crescendo of the Disney classic is joined by a very discordant and high-pitched _ner-ner-ner-ner_ of some poor car.

Of course, the car in question pulls into the driveway next door.

“Good and quiet people, huh?” Clarke says, laughing to herself.

Not one to be nosy and not wanting to draw attention to herself either, Clarke makes sure she is out of sight while her new neighbors make their way inside, and tries and fails not to eavesdrop.

“Can we watch it _while_ we eat dinner?” a child asks, followed by the slam of a car door.

“Not so hard, Zachary,” a woman scolds.

“Sorry,” the boy says quickly. “But can we? In the living room with the tables?”

“I dunno, buddy. Spaghetti is pretty messy for the living room,” the woman replies.

“I’ll be careful!” the boy pleads.

The rest of the conversation is blocked off as the neighbors walk inside and shut the door, and Clarke smiles. She remembers having the exact same conversation with her dad when she was that age. Somehow it was always such a treat to be able to eat dinner in the living room while a Disney movie played.

Suddenly, Clarke hears a rustling coming from a bush that is closest to the wood line.

Clarke has lived in Manhattan practically her whole life. Yeah, that included yearly vacations to the Hamptons or the Florida Keys if her family was feeling adventurous, and maybe the occasional long weekend in the Catskills, but otherwise Clarke Griffin is one hundred percent certified a city girl. The only reason she even had a car was because she did her undergrad at UNC and it was just easier to have her own car to get around during the semester.

So, when she realizes that there is very real possibility of a raccoon coming out of the bush in her back yard and attacking her—and by _a_ _very real possibility_ she means simply _a possibility_ —she quite literally freezes in fear.

She doesn’t blink as she watches as what she is sure to be a vicious woodland creature emerges from the bush, vowing to at least face her fate head on.

“ _Boof._ ”

What emerges is not a vicious woodland creature at all, but rather a very small, very _cute_ mostly black pitbull puppy.

“Oh…hello there,” Clarke coos softly, not wanting to scare it off. She squats to get on its level.

“ _Boof._ ”

“So you’ve said.” Clarke holds out her hand, beckoning the puppy closer. “C’mere, you cutie.”

The puppy ambles closer to sniff at Clarke’s fingers, so she takes the opportunity to start gently scratching behind its ears. After a moment the puppy seems to deem Clarke safe, nuzzling against her leg.

“Well, this is certainly a warm welcome.”

*

Lexa quickly strips down in her bathroom, trading out her stylish teaching attire for a threadbare American University raglan and some joggers.

As she is letting her hair down from the severe bun she had it in, Zachary’s voice comes muffled through the door.

“What if I promise to be really, really, _really_ careful?” he asks.

Lexa drags her hand through her hair to untangle it, and then pushes it out of her face, before swinging open the door.

“You seriously can’t wait until after dinner? It will literally only take you twenty minutes to inhale spaghetti.”

The boy shakes his head. “Twenty minutes is a long time. Twenty minutes is one of my recesses.” He slows as his mouth works through the plural of recess.

Lexa shakes her head and smiles in spite of herself. “Okay—”

“Yes!” Zachary exclaims, pumping his fist.

“But!” Lexa cuts in sternly, “only if you start your homework while I make dinner.”

He salutes and immediately starts marching downstairs to the kitchen. “I’m on it, Mama!”

Lexa shakes her head, toes her way into some Vans, and heads downstairs after him.

Minutes later, a pot of water is coming to a boil on the stove while Lexa helps Zachary through some math problems.

“Okay, so count the paper clips on the left.”

After a moment: “Six!”

“Great! Now count the paper clips on the right.”

Another moment: “Eight!”

“Alright, eight. So which side has more?”

“The right!”

“So which side does the mouth want to eat?”

“The right side!” He exclaims, beaming up at her.

“Bingo, buddy,” Lexa says, smiling back. “Okay, do the next two on your own, and I’ll check them after.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

Lexa turns back to check on the water, which is still not to a boil, when the doorbell rings, followed by three quick raps on the door.

“Who is it?” Zachary asks.

“I don’t know. Stay here while I go see,” she says, without waiting for confirmation as she makes her way to the front door.

Lexa tentatively opens the front door part way, sticking her head out first.

Maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s literally golden hour, but the woman on her doorstep looks ethereal—with golden hair, bright blue eyes, and a bright smile to match. And on top of that, she’s holding a small black puppy.

Lexa blinks a few times, trying to determine if this is real life before opening the door a little wider. “May I help you?”

“Uh, yeah!” the woman says, a little breathless. I, uh. I just moved in next door today, and I found this little guy in my back yard.” She holds up the puppy for emphasis. “I heard you guys come home and since you have a kid I thought that maybe this guy might belong to you.”

Lexa raises her eyebrow at the woman, who is now looking a little sheepish, but before she can respond, Zachary is pushing past her legs.

“Who might belong to us? OH! A puppy!”

“Zachary, I told you to stay in the kitchen,” Lexa scolds lightly.

“What’s his name?” Zachary asks, completely ignoring Lexa.

“Um, I haven’t really thought of one yet. I just found him,” the woman answers.

“That’s so cool! I wish I would find a puppy!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat.” The woman then focuses her attention back on Lexa. “Um, can he—he can pet him, if you’re okay, with it.”

Zachary immediately whips his head around, fixing his own version of puppy dog eyes on Lexa. “May I, Mama?”

Between Zachary’s puppy dog eyes, the actual puppy, and the ethereal goddess on her doorstep, Lexa is defenseless. “Alright, but be gentle.”

The woman squats to bring the puppy down to Zachary’s level. “My name is Clarke. What’s your name?”

“Zachary Green. I’m in the first grade.” The answer is automatic since Zachary’s full attention is on the puppy in front of him.

“The first grade? That’s a pretty good grade to be in.”

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” The puppy nuzzles at Zachary’s face and he laughs.

“I bet.” Then the woman—Clarke—directs her attention back to Lexa. “And what’s your name, neighbor?”

“Lexa Woods,” she answers simply. Simply because all other words fail her.

She can see the beat of confusion pass through Clarke’s eyes at the different surnames, but thankfully she doesn’t ask. Instead she smiles. “So you’ve never seen this guy around the neighborhood?”

“I’m afraid not,” Lexa answers.

Clarke looks back down at the puppy. “A stray, huh? Well, isn’t that something.”

“Are you going to keep him?” Zachary asks.

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m in doctor school, so I might not have time to take care of a puppy.” Zachary’s face begins to fall, and to Lexa’s surprise, Clarke seems to notice this as well. “But he’s at least going to be with me for a few more days until I figure out what to do.”

“So tomorrow he’ll still be at your house?” Zachary asks.

“Yup. He sure will.”

Zachary whips back around to face Lexa. “Can we visit tomorrow after school, Mama? Please?”

Lexa smiles at him, slightly embarrassed. “That’s not up to me, buddy. That’s up to Clarke.”

Zachary turns back around to Clarke, but she answers before he can even ask. “Sure you can. But only if you finish you’re homework first.”

“Yes!” Zachary exclaims, pumping his fist for the second time that night.

“What do you say, Zachary?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you, Clarke!” Zachary says beaming.

“No problem, Zach Attack.” Zachary blushes and giggles at the nickname, stepping back behind Lexa’s legs, uncharacteristically bashful.

Clarke takes the opportunity to stand back up and focus on Lexa. “Anytime tomorrow is good with me. Just stroll on over.”

“What about doctor school?” Lexa asks with a grin and confidence she didn’t know she had.

“Right. Yeah, my residency doesn’t start until next week,” Clarke says with a smile. “I wanted to have time to settle in and get to know my neighbors.” She winks at Zachary. He giggles again.

“I see,” is all Lexa can say.

“Well, I better get out of your hair,” Clarke says, turning to leave. “See you tomorrow, Zach Attack!”

“Bye, Clarke!” he squeaks out.

For a moment, both Lexa and Zachary are content to watch Clarke and the puppy walk the short distance to their home. Until, that is, Lexa starts to hear a loud sizzling coming from the kitchen.

“The water!” Lexa exclaims, darting back into the kitchen.

When she gets there, the majority of the water has boiled over onto the stovetop and floor.

“Holy crap!” Zachary yells.

Lexa quickly turns the burner down, and pushes the pot onto another burner. “Zachary, this is not a ‘holy crap’ moment,” Lexa scolds as she grabs a towel to sop up the water.

“There was water all over the place, Mama! I definitely think it was a ‘holy crap’ moment!” Zachary argues.

“Not quite, buddy,” Lexa says as she carefully refills the pot and starts the boiling process over. “How about you go set up the TV tables in the living room?”

“Okay!” Zachary says, darting into the living room.

Lexa begins to ring out the wet towel over the sink. She takes a moment to let her heart rate come back down after dealing with the mess, taking a couple of deep breaths. However, when she glances up through her kitchen window, she makes eye contact with her new neighbor—ethereal goddess, Clarke—from across the yard through her own window.

She smiles at Lexa and winks before walking out of sight.

It comes out as an unbidden whisper: “Holy crap.”


	2. Pressing On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia arrives, a decision is made regarding the puppy, and, despite her best efforts, Lexa is a very awkward bean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm still here being crappy about updating! I don't want you to think that I abandoned my fics or whatever in the wake of 307 because that is definitely not the case! I just suck at updating for regular reasons. :)
> 
> I'm really gonna try to be better about it. Also this is unbeta'd because it's supposed to be /chill/, so sorry for any typos.

Clarke’s first night in St. Louis was spent very differently than how she imagined it would be.

Grubhub yields all of seven results and only one looks the least bit appetizing, so she orders from some pub and hopes for the best. Of course, the minute she submits her order, Clarke remembers that she has a puppy now and that the puppy also has to eat. She calls to modify her order, adding on a plain cheeseburger, rare with no bun.

“So like…just a patty?” the guy on the other line confirms.

“Yep. Low carb and all that,” Clarke quips.

“Like…not even lettuce?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Uh, that brings your total to 17.63. It’ll be about a half hour.”

“Awesome. Thanks.” She hangs up and squats down to her new roommate. “I hope that’s okay with you, buddy. I have to admit, I’m not a vet.” The puppy just nuzzles against her leg in response. “Well, it’ll just be this once. Don’t get used to it.”

While waiting for the food, she retrieves all the newspaper she used to wrap her fragile stuff in to setup accident areas for the puppy because it’s literally the only thing Clarke knows about house training a dog. Her mother is allergic so the whole childhood pet experience was the one thing Clarke was deprived of growing up. But according to _Lady and The Tramp_ , _101 Dalmatians_ , and other dog-centric movies, newspaper is key to the process.

When the food arrives, she pulls out a couple of bowls, putting the patty in one and filling the other with water and sets them down in the kitchen before settling down next to the puppy with her food on the floor where the kitchen table will be once it arrives. The puppy immediately begins devouring the meat and cheese.

“Good stuff, huh, buddy?”

He looks up from the food for a second to catch his breath and lick his chops, pausing to look at Clarke in what she hopes is thanks before diving back in.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

After they both finish their food (and after the puppy snags some of Clarke’s fries), Clarke digs around her possessions to find something that could work as a dog toy. After a few minutes, she finds a potholder that has seen better days and decides it will work just fine.

It only takes a little prompting from Clarke before they are playing Tug of War in the backyard. They play until it’s dark, and Clarke tries not to think about the fact that maybe her neighbors might have witnessed any part of the game. With both puppy and human exhausted, Clarke carries her new roommate upstairs to the blanket fort she made earlier, and they both settle in for the night.

Both snuggled under the covers, with the puppy curled up on her chest, Clarke feels like a little kid again, totally in love and with this tiny creature. Part of her knows that trying to raise a puppy during her surgical residency is not a good idea—in fact, most of her knows that it’s a terrible idea—but then she thinks about what Zach’s face looked like when he saw her at the door with the puppy in her arms, and she thinks that maybe raising the puppy could be a sort of village effort.

Again, most of her knows that is ridiculous—keeping a puppy for the benefit of the neighbor boy she just met (and maybe also that neighbor boy’s very attractive parent)—but Clarke is too tired to care, so she decides to let Octavia have the final word tomorrow.

*

_DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG_

In all the time Clarke has known Octavia Blake, she has never known her to be patient _or_ quiet. Today would apparently be no different.

The puppy—which Clarke was quickly realizing needed a name because she was tired of calling him ‘buddy’ and ‘little guy’—snaps up from Clarke’s just at the sound of the doorbell.

“ _Boof!”_

“Guess it’s time to get up, huh?”

_DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG_

“Alright, alright,” Clarke sighs, quickly slipping into her converse and shrugging on a hoodie before scooping up the puppy and heading downstairs.

The doorbell persists until Clarke swings open the door to find Octavia, clad in sweats and aviators with her hair pulled up into a messy bun. She wastes no time on pleasantries.

“What the fuck, Griff? Were you in a coma or something—is that a puppy?!” Octavia drops her duffle pulls the puppy from Clarke’s arms immediately. “He’s adorable!”

“Hello to you too, O.”

“Whatever. You knew I was coming, and now you have a _puppy_.”

“Yeah, he was squatting in the backyard when I got here.” Clarke looks around Octavia to see the moving truck coming down the road. “And it looks like you brought the movers with you. Great.”

Octavia looks up from the puppy to Clarke. “I’m just lucky like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get your luggage inside and clear the way.”

After carrying Octavia’s luggage up to her room, they moved to the backyard to give the movers space to work.

“Does he have a name?” Octavia asks, once outside while literally rolling around with the puppy.

“Well, I dunno. We are about to start a surgical residency. Not the best time to raise a puppy, you know?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to keep him?!” Octavia practically screeches. “Look at his face, Clarke. _Look at it_.”

“I know, O. Believe me, I know. But forty-eight hour shifts aren’t exactly conducive to puppy training.”

Octavia rolls to her back and holds the puppy out above her. “Let’s call him New York. It’ll be poetic or symbolic or something.”

Clarke drags her fingers through her hair. “So you’re just gonna ignore the logistical issues here, huh?”

“This puppy is literally our fresh start, Clarke. New York City is our past, and New York puppy is our future.”

“Octavia—”

“It’s fate, Clarke! Besides, I’m sure we can find some neighbor kid to let him out and stuff when we aren’t home. Isn’t that the whole point of suburbia?”

Clarke immediately thinks of Zach and Lexa and it makes her smile. She tries to tamp it down before Octavia notices, but she’s not quick enough.

“What’s that smile about, Griff?”

“I wasn’t smiling,” Clarke protests, pursing her lips.

“Yes, you were.” Octavia throws the potholder across the yard for (newly christened) New York to fetch. Then she gasps. “Did you already seduce one of our neighbors?!”

“Octavia!”

“Don’t act like it’s out of the realm of possibilities. You work fast.”

Clarke rolls her eyes in surrender. “Okay, sure. But it’s not like that. When I first found—are we really calling him New York?”

Octavia nods sagely. “It’s _symbolic_ , Clarke.”

“Fine. So, when I first found New York, I thought that he might have gotten loose from some other yard, you know? Literally five minutes later, our next-door neighbors came home, and there’s this little boy named Zach. And O, when he saw New York, he was _so_ happy.”

“How sweet!”

“Yeah, he definitely was. He was very concerned about whether or not I was going to keep New York, so I…” Clarke trails off. The ridiculousness of the whole situation hits her with full force. She’s letting Octavia talk her into keeping this puppy—naming him _New York_ , of all things—because she can’t say no to a little boy she barely knows.

(Granted, there is also that boy’s very attractive mother. But Octavia didn’t need to know that part, and it doesn’t actually make the situation any better either.)

“So you what, Clarke?” Octavia prompts, confusion showing on her face as she half-heartedly faces off against New York in yet another bout of Tug of War.

Clarke shakes her head and laughs to herself, bracing herself for the teasing she is sure is to come. “So I invited him over to play with New York after he finishes his homework.”

“You are such a pushover. There’s no way you’re gonna be a surgeon.”

“Just because I’m not ready to fight the world twenty-four-seven like you doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”

“Whatever you say, Griff,” Octavia concedes, yanking the potholder free and tossing across the yard. New York prances after it immediately. “I guess we gotta go shopping after the movers finish, huh? Gotta get a crate and dog food and maybe some human food too, I guess.”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Clarke agrees with a nod.

New York returns the potholder to Octavia, pawing at her to throw it again. “And maybe some actual dog toys while we’re at it.”

The movers are quick and efficient, finishing within a couple of hours. Later that afternoon, Clarke is pushing New York in a cart, perusing varies squeaky animals while Octavia sets up and introductory appointment with a local vet.

A particularly large and floppy moose catches Clarke’s eye. She stops the cart to give it a squeeze and it lets out a long, harsh whine. New York’s ears prick up and he lets out a bark. “Is this moose the one, New York?”

She holds the moose close to New York and he sniffs at it a moment before taking it into his mouth, and settling back down into the cart.

“I guess that’s a yes.”

Behind her, Octavia finishes up her phone call. “Sounds great. See you tomorrow!” She pockets the phone and catches up to walk beside Clarke.

“We all set?” Clarke asks.

“Yep. Ten a.m. tomorrow with Dr. Trankler.” Octavia looks over at New York, gently gnawing on his new moose friend. “Looks like someone made his choice.”

“He sure did.” Clarke pauses for a moment, then, “Do you think we should get a second one so after he inevitably destroys this one we can replace it?”

“Good call,” Octavia nods, grabbing a second floppy moose.

*

Lexa had just sat down on the couch after swapping out her teaching attire for her favorite joggers and a v-neck, and was in the process of setting out the various midterms she needed to start grading when Zachary sits down next to her with a clipboard and his backpack.

“Did you already finish your snack?”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, rummaging through his backpack, uncharacteristically focused.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna do my spelling in here with you.”

“Already?” Lexa says, slightly surprised. Normally it takes two after school snacks and a couple of episodes of Steven Universe before Lexa can get Zach to focus in on his homework.

“Well, yeah. Then I can go and see Clarke and her puppy,” Zachary answers, propping up his feet on the coffee table and starting in on a worksheet.

Oh, yeah. That was a thing.

Lexa had done a pretty good job of pushing any thought of her ethereal goddess of a new neighbor from her mind over the last twenty-four hours. Managed to get all the way through her school day, in fact. She had been hoping that Zachary had been as successful and maybe—just perhaps—had totally forgotten about Clarke’s invitation altogether. But of course, Zachary wasn’t going to forget when there was a puppy involved.

Zachary must have noticed that Lexa didn’t immediately confirm his reasoning, because he turns to look at her. “That is what she said, Mama, _right_?”

Lexa can only nod. It’s not like she’s going to tell him that she would rather not be faced with their _incredibly attractive_ new neighbor today. “That’s correct. So all you have is spelling?”

“Yeah, definitions and three times each.”

“Well, then you better get on it!” she says, nudging his shoulder.

And he does. Apparently, puppy is the best way to motivate a first grader because Zachary finishes his spelling homework in record time—with no misspellings. An hour later, he’s tugging Lexa out the door and across the shared front yard to Clarke’s house, and Lexa is desperately trying to remember that this is really all about a puppy and nothing else.

When they reach the front step, Zachary immediately rings the doorbell and knocks twice before Lexa can intervene. Not five seconds later, the door swings open, and a brunette woman who is decidedly _not_ Clarke is smiling at them.

While this causes Lexa to double check whether or not they could have somehow knocked on the wrong door, Zachary is not deterred. “Hello. Is Clarke home?” he asks like he’s practiced it in the mirror. Knowing Zach, he probably did.

The woman squats to get on Zachary’s level much the same way Clarke did the day before. “She sure is. And you must be Zach.”

“Uh-huh,” Zach says with a nod.

“Well, my name is Octavia, but you can call me O.” She stands back up and steps out of the doorway to clear the way. “Clarke is out back playing with New York, if you wanna head out.”

“New York?” Zachary asks. “But that’s a place.”

“Yeah, it’s where Clarke and I are from, so we decided it would be a good name for our puppy. What do you think?”

Zachary furrows his brow for a second before shrugging. “I guess. Can I go play now?”

The question is directed at Lexa, and it takes her a beat to realize it before Zachary and Octavia are both looking at her expectantly. (She may have been too busy focusing on how Octavia said ‘Clarke and I’ and ‘our puppy’ and that they are _both_ from New York.)

For the first time since arriving, she has to find her voice. “Yes. Just be careful.”

“I will, Mama!” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the already open door to backyard.

Octavia laughs. “He’s as cute as Clarke said.”

Lexa smiles awkwardly for lack of better response. “He’s something.”

Octavia laughs again, her entire face lighting up in the process, and Lexa is struck by how objectively gorgeous she is for the first time since meeting. Octavia holds out her hand to Lexa. “I know you already know, but I like to be thorough. I’ve Octavia Blake.”

Lexa takes her hand and gives it a firm shake. “Lexa Woods, your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lexa Woods. Can I get you something to drink before we join the fun outside?”

“Just water is fine.”

Octavia’s face falls slightly with disappointment. “But I bought so many different juices.”

It’s charming, and despite feeling awkward because she’s ninety-nine percent sure this woman is Clarke’s girlfriend or wife or something, and that probability fills Lexa with an inappropriate amount of jealousy, Lexa humors her new neighbor.

“How many different juices?”

Octavia lights right up again. “Okay, well, I may have gone a little overboard,” she admits, pulling open the fridge.

A few minutes later, Lexa finds herself outside with a large tumbler of cucumber kiwi lemonade, watching Clarke and Zachary playing Keep Away From New York with a floppy moose.

“I’ll tag in so you and Clarke can talk,” Octavia says, jogging into the yard before Lexa can protest – she doesn’t _need_ to talk to Clarke, she’s content to just watch, it’s fine.

But Clarke is already heading her way with a smile. “Hey! I see Octavia hooked you up with some juice.”

“That she did,” is all Lexa can think to say.

“It’s okay. You can say she went overboard,” Clarke says with a grin. “She bought like five different kinds.”

Lexa hums pleasantly. “Seven, actually.”

“Even better.”

They both stand quietly, focused on Octavia leading Zach and New York in a very enthusiastic game of what Lexa can tell simply consists of yelling ‘ATTACK’ and running around the yard.

She feels Clarke shuffle slightly closer to her, and then she’s speaking.

“I’m glad you came.”

Lexa swallows – partly to stall, partly to swallow down the butterflies that suddenly formed in her stomach.

“ _You_ invited Zach. I couldn’t deprive him of a puppy.” Lexa chooses that moment to look at Clarke, only to find Clarke already watching her. She blinks hard and hopes she isn’t blushing when she quietly says, “He did all his homework after all.”

Clarke smiles and looks down at her shoes. “That was the deal.”

“It was.”

Clarke looks back up to meet Lexa’s gaze. “I meant…I’m glad I got the opportunity to see you again. You and Zach.”

Now this doesn’t make any sense to Lexa. Clarke and Octavia are clearly involved and have been for a long time considering that they moved halfway across the country together.

And yet, here Clarke is…flirting…? With her? Very sweetly, but still. Lexa cannot afford this kind of drama.

She puts some distance between the two of them.

“Clarke, I appreciate the sentiment, but this is inappropriate.”

Clarke’s head jerks in her direction. “Pardon?”

“You have been very sweet to Zachary, and you are certainly… _attractive_ , but it’s wrong.”

“Wait.” Clarke blinks and furrows her brow. “You aren’t gay?”

“No—”

“OH. Hah, my bad. I just thought. ‘Cause yesterday, you seemed…nevermind. No worries.”

“No…I-I’m gay.”

Clarke cocks her head to the side. “Then…is it because of Zach? Like…you want to be discreet?”

“Well, yes, that would be a thing, but—”

Clarke turns to make sure she’s facing Lexa, blocking the view of the yard. “Listen, I can be discreet.

“Obviously,” Lexa retorts with edge.

“What’s _that_ mean?”

“You aren’t single, Clarke!”

Everything freezes for a moment. Even Octavia and Zach look towards the patio to investigate Lexa’s outburst, before Octavia chuckles and pulls Zach back into the game.

“I’m not?” Clarke asks, grinning.

“No,” Lexa answers, deflating slightly. “You’re not.”

“Care to tell me who I’m dating?”

“Octavia…?” Clarke gently shakes her head. Lexa gulps. “You aren’t with Octavia.”

“Nope. We’re just friends. Best friends, and we have made out a couple of times, but nah. O’s pretty straight.”

“Oh…my. Okay.” Lexa takes a deep breath. She nods a couple of times, getting her bearings, letting the humiliation wash over her. “I’m very sorry for assuming—I should. We should get going—”

Clarke gently grabs her arm. “Hey, no. It’s okay. You just got here, and Zach is having a lot of fun. I mean, you can leave Zach here and we can walk him over later, _or_ you can let me treat you two to pizza _slash_ tell me the best place to get pizza around here is.”

Clarke’s smile is warm and she _isn’t_ dating Octavia and—maybe this is a reach, but—she seems to understand at least something about navigating relationships when children are involved. And she is very, very pretty, and Lexa hasn’t had dinner with a pretty girl in a very, very long time.

“You might not like it.” Clarke’s brow furrows again, and this time Lexa allows herself to think it’s cute. “The pizza,” she clarifies. “You are from New York and pizza is pretty different here.”

“It’s pizza. How different can it be?” Clarke shrugs.

“Think if nachos and pizza had a baby.”

Clarke grins again, “I’m intrigued.”

*

About four hours and two extra large deluxe Imo’s pizzas later, Lexa and Clarke walk over to Lexa’s house while she holds a zonked out Zachary in her arms.

When they get to the door, Lexa begins to fish out her keys. “Thanks for inviting him over. He clearly wore himself out.”

“Of course! Hopefully, that exhaustion translates to New York as well.”

Lexa unlocks the door, and gestures for Clarke to follow her inside. She quickly runs upstairs to deposit Zachary in bed before returning back down to Clarke.

“So since you’ve named him, is it safe to assume that you’re keeping him?”

“That would be correct,” Clarke confirms. “I couldn’t imagine separating Zach and New York.”

Lexa blinks. “Don’t tell me you’re keeping him on Zachary’s account.”

“He may have had something to do with it, but I have a couple other reasons.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Well, Octavia fell in love with him immediately, for one.”

“Okay, and?”

Clarke meets Lexa’s gaze and smirks like she knows something Lexa doesn’t as a pregnant pause passes.

“You know, we should probably exchange numbers.”

“What?”

“So we can coordinate playdates and stuff. Plus, we’re neighbors and it’s the neighborly thing to do,” Clarke explains.

“Oh, yes! Sure. Of course. Right.”

They quickly exchange numbers, and Lexa walks Clarke outside. After taking a minute to compose herself, Lexa grabs the stack of midterms she abandoned earlier and heads up to get ready for bed.

She completes her nightly routine—moisturizing, teeth brushing, flossing, and loose hair braiding—before settling in bed where the midterms await. She plugs her phone into the charger and starts chipping away at the work she neglected earlier.

Three graded midterms later, Lexa’s phone buzzes.

 _Clarke Griffin_

_Goodnight Lexa!_

_It was lovely having you_

_and Zach Attack over._

_I’ll keep that in mind. :)_

_Goodnight, Clarke._

Pleased that her response wasn’t too terribly awkward, Lexa sets her phone aside to focus on grading. Not a minute later, her phone buzzes again.

_Clarke Griffin_

_And just a reminder, I am_

_/not/ dating Octavia. ;)_

She takes in the text for a moment before tossing the midterms aside and turning off her bedside lamp. There is no way she is going to be able to get any grading done now. She is so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about this at nataliving.tumblr.com


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